You Want Everything
by looks the same
Summary: Jane Rizzoli, your girlfriend, your lover, your partner, is still here. But she is no longer your best friend.


**A/N: Relationship assumed. Maura POV. Somewhat a collection of thoughts. A warning: It doesn't really wrap up. It was written as a stream of thought. It reads as confusing and misspoken and abrupt on purpose. A reflection of real people, not TNT T.V. characters that are pretty one-dimensional. I don't buy that Jane and Maura would fall into an effortless relationship. To me, their love, is almost too much? So intense that it would not be easy. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

You've lost your friend. Permanently, you hope to god not. But right now, yes. And it has been going on for some time. The effects of Jane Rizzoli's absence is more devastating than anything you have ever known.

You still see her everyday. Wake up to her burrowed deeply into your side, arms surrounding your body, head either against your hip or her cheek against the flat planes of your stomach. Her hair stretches down her own back, often winding its way to your bare torso. The weight of her, the pressure of her body exerting itself onto yours is the only way you sleep now. Physically she is still here. Jane Rizzoli, your girlfriend, your lover, your partner, is still here.

But she is no longer your best friend. And she is who you tell things to, have always told things to. But what you need to say now, what you need to talk about _is_ her. This is why people have families. This is why blood is thicker than water. This is why people build communities. But Jane _is_ your family, Jane _is_ your community. You've figuratively put all your eggs in one basket.

But you need to back up. You need to start from the beginning. Jane Rizzoli, your best friend, would have let you talk this through. She would have willingly sat next to you, sharing that spot on the couch while you talked and blundered your way about this. Her very presence would have forced more work from your heart, less from your head. So it takes a bit of time for you to disentangle all the emotion and frankly, impulsiveness that Jane has always demanded from you. The just, go with the flow. Sort it through as it comes. We'll figure it out as it happens.

Without her you resort to your old way of reasoning. Start from the beginning. Analyze the action. Observe, granted yes in hindsight, the coming of events.

This is what you know.

Your attraction to Jane was immediate. Within the first week of meeting her, the actual her not the hooker-undercover version of her, you knew. Knew that she was somebody. Somebody meant to be quite something in your life.

She was fierce, bold, brave and brash. Crass at times, protective to the extreme, loud, stubborn, selfish. Not exactly a peach. _But_. Oh, but Jane Rizzoli was alive! The most alive thing you'd ever encountered. This was before Hoyt. This was before the other monsters. Before her dad left her and before she shot herself. This was even before her work in Homicide. Honestly this was before Jane really grew up. And so she was a little naive, a little _twirly_. Still trying to prove her worth and still trying to navigate her place as a woman in a male dominate work place. She still got nervous on the job, not the kind most people would notice but there was a certain apprehension that guided her actions. And yet, she continued. Took in deep breaths and chased down bad guys. She use to get this flush, her cheekbones looking as if they were stained with adrenalin. She grinned more then, took in compliments with much more ease. Alive, alive, alive.

You knew her. From the very beginning you were extremely aware that somehow you knew this magnificent creature much more than anyone else. You understood her. Knew her because you were the same. It might not always appear that way but if you were to boil down each of your individual personalities, drain out anything excessive or extra or temporary, the core traits would be the same. You are made up of the same things. Your environment, the surroundings you were raised and fed in, are what are different. And yes, you are more polished, polite, calculated, and careful. But you too are more brave than typical, more independent than necessary. In your own way you too are very loud.

The men of the force find you odd, though mostly it's because they can't explain you. You are not like their girlfriends, yet you do not appear to be like Jane. Jane who so closely resembles what they expect and what they see from the majority of women who do this job. Your appearance is delicate, round, vulnerable and possibly similar to the women they bed, the women they marry. Yet your mind is sharp, very precise, and always, well, right. In fact, if your outward appearance were to match how you see the world and how you interact with it, well, you would look like Jane. Harsh lines. Strong lines. Lines in general.

But you step around things instead of barreling through them. You carry an umbrella. You rarely use foul language. Yet you willingly submerge your gloved hands in cold bodies. You are not subpar, you are not just doing what you do because it's the job. You _are_ the job and you do this with as much a vengeance as they theirs. You are the very best. And it throws most men off. Not Jane though. You are the same, she and you. But it's not just your upbringing that makes it appear as if you are different, it's also your experiences.

You too have had your share of horror. Your too many moments of panic. You've had a gun in your face, a knife at your back, a taser along your throat. But that's the difference. Moments.

Jane has had almost a lifetime. For almost eight years a man hunted her. And that kind of fear, day in and day out, hour strung after hour, it kills a person. Hoyt, while now dead, disfigured a part of Jane that is not likely to heal with just the passing of time.

There aren't any case studies on women like Jane; you've looked. There's the occasional report on women who are the victims of stalking, the abusive husband that follows their every move. But there isn't any data about how you overcome that and there certainly isn't any information at the ready about what you do when hunting the man in return is your job. So you look for similarities within other populations. The closest you find are women who are the victims of long-term sexual abuse. They live in a constant state of fear, a constant state of repression, and that fear becomes part of their lives. It becomes their standard. Often that fear continues even after the threat is no longer and often the person is not even aware of it. But their bodies tell a different story. You've seen the scans, the flooding of unnecessary adrenalin that is almost constant. The brain imaging that shows portions being triggered that upheld for the long-term can have detrimental effects.

_Survivor_. It's a word many are ready to throw at Jane. She's a hero, most certainty. A survivor, you're not quite sure. See, one does not become a survivor by the act of not dying. One become a survivor by the act of purposefully living.

Women who have experienced trauma often seek out professionals and they speak of their fear, they speak of their horror, and the lies that over time have become harmful truths inside their minds. You don't just get over such a thing. It _must_ be mindful. It _must_ be intentional. They must coat their wounds with real truths. They must force the chatter inside their minds to stop. They must spend their day, every day and for quite some time, soothing themselves with kindness. That's when you become a survivor. When you start living again. Living and living free of the bad that was forced onto you and into you.

Jane believes that if she gets up each morning and goes to work she will be saved. If she goes through her routine and she interacts with her family and she catches some more bad guys then she will be okay. If she comes home and she loves you, she will be redeemed. But you don't want this version of Jane. The, _I'm okay as long as I can just coast along the surface of it all_, Jane.

You want the Jane of everything. The raw, the angry, the defeated, the scared, the hopeful, the overwhelmed, the alive. You want Jane alive! Grateful to be alive and desperate to surround herself with wonder. And you can't just be her friend. And you can't just be her lover. You want more. You want all of her. You want everything.

In the beginning of this relationship there were only a few things that changed. The transition from friendship to relationship just had more closeness, more commitment, and more labels. And the labels were good. You liked being Jane's girl. There was sex now and the sex was good. Took some time for it to be good, a little bit longer for it to be really good. But Jane and her naked body, strong hands that ground you, a hungry mouth that loves you, a face that is so so open when she comes, well it is the kind of love that poets write about.

But now it is not new. You and Jane are not new. You have been together for almost three years and she is your forever. Inconclusively. That's not what this is about. You aren't having doubts. You aren't looking for something else. With Jane the pressure of planning for your future has faded. And before Jane you would have thought that having that thought would be terrifying, wrong, a problem. But it isn't. It doesn't matter where you go for vacation next summer. It doesn't matter that the NYPD Homicide Unit has shown an interest in Jane, in possibly offering her the position of Lieutenant. It doesn't matter when Jane proposes. You've picked out the rings together and now you happily wait so that she can have the thrill of trying to surprise you. It doesn't matter what the wedding will be or when. You'd like to have babies with her one day and with your ages you've already talked about adoption options, but those details don't really matter either. You have Jane and so everything else is somewhat irrelevant. Sounds silly, possibly stupid. But there it is.

So it's not that. You being bored, you being over this. No.

The problem is that what you have of Jane right now is wonderful but it isn't everything. She has more to give, more to offer. And she can't access it. Hoyt destroyed her ability to access it. And you will be damned if you just roll over and go with what the two of you have now even if it's pretty damn good, probably a whole lot better than what most have. No! She is in pain. And therefore, so are you. There is this whole other side of Jane Rizzoli that is locked so far away and while you should be supportive and let her dig if she wants to dig, you can't. It's her life, right? It's her pain. She is the one that will have to do the work. But, this is your life too! Jane is your heart and your heart hurts.

She is trying to put bandaids on her open wound. She is using bandaids and soothing ointment when only sutures will do.

* * *

It was the first year of your relationship. Things were going well. You rarely fought and when you did it was short, somewhat dramatic, and often dissolved a few hours later when one of you crept into bed with a sheepish smile, a pouting lip. You laughed over your outbursts together more often than cried. Jane moved in and Angela moved into Jane's old apartment. Re-did it and made it her own. Not once did Jane fight it. It was her mother's place now, and your home was hers. You settled into domestic life and it was lovely. You adjusted for your jobs, meaning Jane became more careful and a little less wild in her work decisions. You kept shorter hours and hired a few more assistants so that you and Jane could still have a personal life. You named each other as healthcare agents in the event of crisis where one might need to make medical decisions for the other.

The other cops stopped referring to you as Queen of the Dead. Sure they probably still giggled like school boys when someone brought up Rizzoli and the Doc and _their bed_, but they stopped teasing you for your quirks and what they viewed as your cold approach to the job. You were Rizzoli's girl now and while Jane wasn't quite one of the boys, they respected her and they respected her clearance rate. So on nights that Jane was working late, staked out, not able to come home, you saw the patrol cops. Saw how every hour they did a quick drive by down your block. They did it for all the cop's wives. When someone was pulling a night shift, it's what they did for each other. Checked in, made sure all was quiet, enforced the peace with their little red lights and their puff of exhaust as they made their loop. It made you blush feverishly. This idea that you belonged. Belonged to Jane.

Then it was the second year of the relationship. It was around that time that you noticed it. Jane hit a wall. The two of you were no longer growing. In fact, it started to feel as if she were pulling back. She stopped conversations, important conversations about the future, short. She flinched on occasion when the two of you, sweaty and satiated, were wrapped around each other, breathing promises into each other's necks. She was still happy Jane, attentive Jane but it was almost as if she didn't trust you anymore. No, that's wrong. It was like she stopped trusting you more. As if she had reached her fill. The relationship continued. And if you caught her in the right mood, talk of marriage and babies did come about. But more often then not, she pulled you towards her, hushed you with her lips, distracted you with her hands. She became reckless again. More than before. And while she wasn't shooting herself in the abdomen anymore, you heard the stories that spread through the bullpen.

_Rizzoli jumped from the scaffolding and tackled the perp mid stride! _

_Rizzoli, gun on the floor, was the one that went in and talked the kidnappers down! _

_Rizzoli didn't wait for back-up! _

_Rizzoli got shot in the arm!_

And yes, she's a cop! You have not forgotten. You want her to do her job well and you accept a certain amount of risk. But come on Jane!

At this rate? At this rate she doesn't make it home for Christmas.

Korsak is shitting bricks, as they say. Ripping her a new one, also what they say, almost every corner you turn. Telling her to use her head and not her fist. Benching her on certain busts.

* * *

"Detective!" It's the harshness of Vince's voice that makes you stop short, press your body into the wall that blocks you from their view.

"Yes Lou," Jane says. Her voice overly primed with sarcasm and barely there tolerance.

"Cut the crap Jane! I just heard from Frost and both your new rookies that you couldn't wait the two minutes for your team to show up before sauntering into the Windcap warehouse!"

There's a pause. Jane is probably grinding her teeth.

And then, "I _got_ the job done."

It's silent and you imagine them there staring at each other. Facing off. But you know these two. One of them will soften.

And yes, here come their real selves.

"Jane, what's going on?"

You hear the harsh breath being pushed out of her nose. She is probably running a hand through her mane, tugging at the roots. She tells him nothing. Brushes him off.

"Everything okay with you and the Doc?"

Your ears perk up at that and suddenly you feel guilty for where you stand.

"With Maura?" Jane asks, surprised. "Yeah of course. We're fine."

There's another silence and then the sound of one of them stepping forward.

"Whatever is going on Janie, you better get it under control." His voice is softer now. Yet at the same time it's direct and purposeful. "Because the Doc? Well, you're frightening her."

"She's tough Korsak. You know that."

Vince makes a sound in the back of his throat. "Not that tough Janie. And not when it comes to you."

You wait for Jane to say something but after a beat he continues on.

"Look at me Rizzoli." His voice is sharper now, urgent. "_She_ is the best thing you've done. What the two of you have? Shit, I don't really know how she tolerates you Jane." Jane chuckles, the both of them do. Trying to diffuse the seriousness of Korsak's concerns. Trying not to admit how much they care for each other, how much Jane wants to please the older man, how protective he is of her.

"Don't you dare hurt that girl, Janie. _You_ will never recover from it. You hearing me Rizzoli? "

Beat. Pause.

And then, "Yes, sir."

You hear those boots of hers start down the hall, away from where you are hidden.

And you cannot move. And then he is suddenly in front of you. "Don't you give up on her."

Vince Korsak, the most unlikely of father figures has somehow inserted himself into both of your lives. In a way that makes you feel that if he says things will be okay then as a daughter it is your duty to believe him.

"Chin up," he says, literally hooking his index finger underneath your chin. You try to give him a smile but it's tight-lipped and your eyes are brimming with emotion.

And when you are certain you can respond without crying, you do. Using Jane's words as your own.

* * *

You have been doing what you promised. You have not been giving up on her. But these days Jane looks at you in a way that you would rather not be looked at by the woman you love. She's short, sometimes cold, and often angry. Not throw things at you or say cruel words, angry. But her tone is often too sharp even if she often apologizes for it. You feel as if almost everything you do annoys her. And you know, know that she reacts this way because she is feeling too much. Feeling too much in a lot of ways. You imagine how she feels about you is too much. Overwhelming. New. Scary. And then there are the things she has stuffed down, smothered into the back of her throat and they are finally pushing back.

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

It's early evening and the two of you are home, just finishing dinner. Jane stands at the kitchen sink, scrubbing the pans and plates. You sit at the island, your wine glass pushed off to the side, elbows up on the surface, your chin in your hands.

"I want to talk about some things," you say. "About our relationship."

Jane stiffens at the sink. You want to have this conversation while she has something to do. Jane, your lover, has a hard time just sitting and talking. Giving her a task will ease her discomfort. Jane, your best friend, never needed such distractions.

"Okay," she replies, shakes her head back so her hair doesn't block her face, glances at you quickly to find your small smile. She goes back to the plates.

You take a deep breath and then you begin.

"I'm a little nervous about this," You admit. "But I have some concerns about, well about us." You finish the last part quickly, getting it out there. "And I've given us some time, hoping certain things would dissolve on their own but it seems as if a more direct approach would be more conducive to you and I... especially seeing as we've taken steps such as picking out engagement rings...and I feel that if-"

"-Maura."

You take a deep breath, look into brown orbs from across the kitchen. "Yes?"

"Just say what you want to say." And then after a pause, "I can take it."

So you do.

"I feel like you're waiting for me to leave you."

There. There. Jane shuts off the water.

"What?"

"I feel like you are _waiting_ for me to leave you."

"I heard you Maura." She finally turns to face you, crosses her arms in front of her. It forces her posture to straighten in some parts, jut out in others. "So do you?" Jane asks.

You look at her face, it gives away nothing. "Do I what? Want to leave you?" Clearly not.

"Yeah." Jane holds your gaze. "Because if that is where this is going I'd rather you just do it now. I don't want you pretending that you love me because I _need_ it or something."

Pretending? Does Jane not know you at all.

"Jane, people need love all the time. Needing love isn't a sign of weakness, is that what you think?" She doesn't respond. "Because I need your love. That's how relationships work."

"And how would you know that Maur? You haven't been in a serious relationship before this. So don't sit there and pretend that I'm the one that is clueless here and oh, I don't know-" Jane throws her hands up, "-naive, when it comes to this."

Okay, this isn't going how you planned. This isn't even going in one of the possible directions that you thought Jane might take this.

"Okay, stop!" You put your hands up in front of you almost as if you are warding off her words. "I don't want to leave you, Jane. I feel as if _you_ are waiting for _me_ to leave you. And so you're pushing me. Being hurtful with your words at times. Refusing to have meaningful conversations. Taking extreme risks at work. Being less attentive, less affectionate. Being somewhat aggressive in our love making-"

Jane's eyes flash up to yours at that. Wide, scared.

"Okay-" You amend, "Hold on." _Fuck!_

You continue in a rush. "I did not mean that you have in any way hurt me physically or pursued any sexual act that I have not given complete consent to. Do not take my words out of context, Jane Rizzoli." You find her eyes and pour your sincerity into them.

You should not have brought that aspect up. _Dammit!_ You would have practiced for days if that was something you actually wanted to talk about. It would have been said exactly how you meant and held no room for misinterpretation. Because if Jane thinks she has hurt you, physically at least, or molded your body in a way that you did not welcome, she will be gone. She will be gone and you will never find her.

"What I meant," You take a deep breath. "Is that there has been a difference, is all. A shift in your attitude towards me and it has presented itself in a myriad of ways."

"You knew what my job entailed when we first started this. And if that's _too hard_ for you Maura. Well, I'm not surprised."

Of course that is what she focuses on.

"That's not what this is about Jane!"

"Then what is it about?" She's shouting now. And so are you.

"This is about you being scared and taking it out on me and hurting my feelings!"

"Well I'm sorry your feelings are hurt. That sucks but relationships aren't always easy, okay?"

"I know that!" You know that, clearly.

"Then tell me, specifically, what I'm doing that is making this _so_ hard."

You take another deep breath. This, this is what you expected. This you planned for.

"We don't talk about the future, Jane. Honestly, we don't talk about the past either. Everything, as of recent, is so surface. And I don't need to always be talking about the future, in fact that's one thing I've been most surprised by. The need to not always be planning everything because I just know that it will be okay. You and I will make it okay."

"So... you don't want to talk about the future but you're mad because we don't?"

_God!_ Jane has such a way of spitting back exactly what you're saying without getting it. And you're trying, trying to say what you mean.

"There! Right there! That. That is what I'm talking about!" You point at her. "That tone. That exhausted tone like you're indulging me, as if I am completely annoying you. As if I'm not making any sense!"

She just looks at you some more with that look, that look that you cannot stand. That look that makes you feel crazy. As if this is all inside your head. "Well you aren't, making any sense. Maybe this is all about communication! Hm, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't communicating right. And I know that's hard for you _blah blah blah_ but you can't pin something on me that I am not doing and then say I'm making you feel bad! That's low!"

You drop your face to your hands. Mostly so that you don't have to look at how she's looking at you.

"I'm sorry that your feelings are hurt Maura. And if you knew me how I thought you knew me, you would know I would never do that purposefully."

_Oh, Jane._ You do know that. You just don't know if it's true anymore.

"Jane, I think maybe you need to talk to someone." You pull your face out of your hands.

"What? Like a shrink!?"

"You have gone through so much and anyone would have a hard time handling all of the things you've had to handle. And you have spent many years ignoring all that and I think that leaving those things left unsaid and not thoroughly dealt with has lead to your anger at all things, especially your anger towards me."

"Are you kidding me?"

You stare at each other and then she responds.

"Well clearly you've figured this all out haven't you! Not everyone needs to talk about their problems, Maura. Sometimes it's better to just forget certain things and move on. I've moved on!"

"No, Jane. No you haven't."

"_Jesus!_ I don't remember you having a psych. degree Dr. Isles."

Ouch.

"I just think maybe a professional might be able to help you understand why you're so angry. A therapist might be able to help. In all things. Not just between you and me."

"Well, _I_ think," That tone of hers is back. "That maybe you just need to always be fixing something Maur. And maybe instead of focusing on me, you should be focusing on yourself. _I_ have plenty of meaningful relationships."

Your face finds your hands again. And your heart just hurts. And then it comes out, muffled between your fingers.

"Maybe I can't do this anymore."

It's honest. More in a, you need her to change but still you feel it and you know as soon as you say it that you have been thinking it for a while. Ignoring it, masking it as something less big than this really all is.

At this point, you're not even sure what this all is. You just know that too many horrible and awful things have happened in your life, in Jane's life. You have things you need to work on too, but this past of Jane's is just so big that nothing else can be done first.

Your words are heavy. And when you look up she is standing closer. "Do you mean that?" Her voice is sharp.

You pause. Too long. And then Jane is slipping her shoes on and moving towards the door. You stand, completely thrown for.

"No! Jane! Do not leave this house!"

She spins, glares at you. "Why not Maura? You're done, right!? I will not stand here and plead for you to stay!"

You run towards her, tears clinging to your lashes. "No Jane! No. Please don't!" You grab her wrists. "I have to know we can have these conversations without you twisting my words and using it as an out!"

"I'm not twisting anything Maura!" She pulls her hands away. "Maybe you're right. Maybe this _isn't_ working anymore!"

"You're just scared Jane!"

"Stop telling me how I feel!" She has her keys in her hand.

You sink to your heels, feeling overwhelmed. This is too much! You can't lose her. Doesn't she know that you just want everything! Everything she has to offer. You just want her to want everything too!

"I just want you to be better!" You say. Stand and face her, tears tracking down your face.

She leans in. "I'm not sick Maura."

But she is. She is. She wakes in the middle of the night screaming out Hoyt's name. She keeps a copy of his death certificate hidden in a drawer so she can look at it when she needs to. Every first Monday of the month she drives down to McLean, the psychiatric ward that Dominick is at. Drives there and makes sure he is still there.

But she still gets up every morning. She still goes to work and participates in family functions. She eats well and exercises. She doesn't hit you and she remembers your anniversary and birthday. Maybe that's enough. Maybe you are asking for too much.

"Jane."

She looks at you. You look at her.

"If you leave this house, we will not recover. Do you hear me? I am begging you. Don't." You grab her hand and place it on your chest, clasping both your hands on top.

She breathes heavily through her nose. Knows this is big. You feel the pressure of her palm against your skin, feel her pushing at you and then it turns from pushing to leaning. The two of you stand there for long minutes.

And then her keys hit the floor and she steps away from you. Turns and walks towards the stairs. You hear her ascend, hear the bedroom door open, hear the bedroom door close.


End file.
